A Step You Can't Take Back
by Welcome2MyWorldxoxo
Summary: Written for the TwiKinkFest. Prompt: #90 Bella feels bad that her father is lonely endeavours to do something about it. If he won't sleep with any of the numerous women she throws his way, perhaps he'll sleep with her? Incest. No angst. No guilt. Submitted by Anonymous.


**Title:** _A Step You Can't Take Back_

 **Rating:** _NC17_

 **Prompt:** _#90 Bella feels bad that her father is lonely endeavours to do something about it. If he won't sleep with any of the numerous women she throws his way, perhaps he'll sleep with her? Incest. No angst. No guilt. Submitted by Anonymous._

 **Relevant Content Warnings:** _Incest between consenting adults that just happen to be father and daughter_

 **AN:** _This is my first fic posted on this site, and the first fanfic I've posted in like two years, so that is quite exciting. This is not beta'd, mostly due to its content and backlash I've received due to beta's personal opinion on what I write in the past. Hope that this is still readable. I took some creative license with this and left the identity of the father ambiguous since it wasn't specified in the prompt. So, choose whatever character you visualize (or just like the most.) This is probably the dirtiest thing I've ever written, and those who have read my stuff on know that I like to write some pretty kinky stuff. That being said, if this isn't your thing, don't read it. Close the tab/window and move on. No haters allowed!_

He was startled awake by a soft knock on his bedroom door. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the muted light overhead as he stretched, adjusting his position until he was propped up against the headboard. He vaguely wondered for how long he had been asleep, the sitcom playing on the tv directly across from the bed different from when he'd nodded off, the canned laughter grating on his ears. He grunted, clearing his throat and took off his glasses to dry wash his face, wiping the sleep dust from his bleary eyes.

"Come in," he called out gruffly, trying to wake himself up, even as a tired yawn slipped past his lips. The digital clock by his bed blinked, the neon numbers reading 12:40, and he sighed, tossing the book he had been reading before he had dozed off onto his bedside table.

Belle, his daughter, poked her head around the door. "Hey, I saw your light on. Thought you might want some company."

He chuffed, knowing that was her round about way of asking if she could join him. He supposed at twenty, things like snuggling and generally seeking out your parent was something you could no longer admit to. It was easier for her to act as if he was the one languishing without her presence.

He patted the bed to his left, secretly glad that, for even a little while, his bed would be a little less empty. He still woke up some days expecting to see his wife curled up next to him, hogging the covers, but really, it was the quiet that got to him. It was why, on some level, he'd had a tv installed in his bedroom, the sound of incessant chatter, no matter how superficial, better than the silence.

Belle stepped into the room, bouncing on the balls of her feet in the doorway, unable to hide the indecision written clearly in her expression when she caught sight of the bottle of Jameson on his nightstand. She hated the fact that since her mother's death her father always drank before bed, and while it was not as bad as it had been in the beginning—he'd graduated from drinking till he passed out to only having a glass or two—it still unnerved her.

Her expression softened into a shy smile when she saw, not the moroseness drinking incited in him, but the tired and rumpled look of a man disturbed from his nap, his unruly hair flopping into his eyes as he tried to stifle a yawn. She pushed off the doorjamb, her bare feet silent on the carpeted floor as she made her way across the room.

He couldn't help but take her in, his daughter, his sweet little girl, now a woman. She was her mother in a younger body, from the upsweep of her thick eyelashes to the natural pout of her pale pink lips, her grey green eyes and Roman nose his only contribution to her features.

She wore tiny, black lace panties that clung to her rounded hips and a cropped football jersey hoodie in burgundy that left the soft, lightly toned expanse of her stomach bare. Her breasts, large upturned globes capped by fat, puffy nipples, strained against her top, the way they jostled beneath the material telling him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't wearing a bra.

He forced his gaze away, knowing he shouldn't have been looking at her like that. It was inappropriate for a father to recognize his daughter as a sexual being in any shape or form, no matter how gorgeous that shape and form was. He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment his gaze had started to feel less like a proud father observing his daughter as she blossomed into womanhood, and more like a man noticing an attractive woman, but he suppressed it viciously each and every time.

He'd found it easy, at first, to dismiss the impure thoughts that trickled into his mind on occasion, citing exhaustion or loneliness for his brief lapses. His only issue was that they were beginning to increase in frequency, and he wasn't sure how long it would continue before he had to actually confront his true feelings concerning his daughter.

She got up onto the bed, choosing to crawl over his body to get to the other side rather than simply walking around the bed. His traitorous eyes darted down to catch a glimpse of her creamy, heart-shaped ass peeking out of the bottom of her underwear, the soft jiggle of her plump cheeks as she moved testing his resolve.

Belle flopped onto her stomach next to him, cushioning her head on her arms as she looked over at him from beneath her lashes. She gazed at him, cataloging features both so similar and foreign to her own. Her father was an attractive man, perhaps not classically handsome in the way men on the front of magazines were, but still undeniably good looking. There was a confidence and maturity in the set of his features, and a subtle glint in his eyes that lent a certain amount of intrigue from those around him. It was in the way he talked though, his voice a low, smooth cadence, his tongue flowing with spun silver, and his lips curving into that trademark wolfish grin that really sealed the deal.

He could feel her gaze on him, and it took everything in him to not squirm beneath it and, instead, kept his eyes trained on the tv. He flipped through the different channels, fingers unsteady and palms sweating lightly, trying to keep both his eyes and mind busy and away from his young, nubile daughter.

Never before had he been so acutely aware of how little he was wearing, the lean, sinewy muscles of his upper half exposed to her gaze, and the sheet draped over his waist the only thing separating him from total nudity. His penchant for sleeping naked was no secret between them, and he wasn't sure if her knowing that he was naked underneath the thin layers of cotton made the situation better or worse.

"Dad?" Belle questioned softly, drawing him out of his reverie.

He grunted in response, eyes never straying away from the tv. He silently wished he hadn't downed that last glass of whiskey, his mind a little fuzzy and his inhibitions lower than he would have liked them to be in this particular situation.

"Do you ever miss mum?" Her words were spoken with a certain amount of vulnerability that made him pause, finally allowing his gaze to flitter over to his daughter. There had been no prelude to her question, and it had thrown him slightly. It had been close to four years since his wife's stage four pancreatic cancer diagnosis, the disease too aggressive and far gone for them to do anything but cherish the months they'd had before her death.

"Every day," he admitted without hesitation or shame.

"Is that why you won't date?" she asked, once again throwing his mind into a tailspin. In the past year, Belle had been trying to push every available female in his direction with less than subtle hints about how he should go out more, but he had, up until this point, resisted all her attempts. He wasn't ready, wasn't sure that he ever would be, and until he found the strength or resolve or whatever it was that inspired widowers to move on, he was quite content to take care of himself when the need arose...no pun intended.

He knew why Belle tried to nudge him to find a woman, not because she wanted to replace her mother—no one could ever do that—but because she couldn't stand to see him so lonely. He could admit that he was no longer floundering in his grief, his smiles coming a little easier, and the air that had once seemed trapped in his lungs able to spill out in soft breaths. On the downside though, it made him aware of the hole inside him that had been left in the wake of his wife's death. It gaped open, tender and aching to be filled, or at least patched up, but to start over, to open himself up to another person was a frightening concept.

He knew nothing of how to act in the current dating world, a widowed, single father not quite as attractive as the title of swim team captain he'd held when he'd swept his high school sweetheart off her feet. They'd gone on to spend seventeen great years together, the unplanned pregnancy that had thrust them into parenthood half way through their first year of college only serving to bring them closer.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, smoothing the light dents left behind from the nose pads of his glasses. "I will always miss your mother, Belle. It doesn't matter if I find someone else, there will always be a part of me that belongs to her. I don't date because I'm not ready to meet certain expectations that will inevitably be thrust upon me if I'm in a relationship," he informed her with a note of finality, not wanting to hash out his closely guarded insecurities.

"Then pick up someone in a bar," she argued, clearly not ready to drop the subject. "At least have a night of fun."

He snorted, thinking of himself, not as a suave Don Juan, but more of a bumbling idiot desperate and past his prime trying to pick up women. "As flattered as I am about your avid interest in my sex life, I am not at the point in my life where I will willingly subject myself to that," he answered dryly.

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you die of blue balls," she groused, propping herself up onto her elbow, the seriousness of her expression amusing to him.

"The impossibility of that statement makes the probability of that happening below zero," he retorted.

"Blah blah blah. I'm just trying to help."

Warmth blossomed in his chest at her words, despite the pout she was making no attempt to hide. He leaned down, inhaling the scent of freshly cleaned skin mixed with something floral and spicy as he placed a kiss on her hair. "I know. Thank you."

A smile tugged at the corner of Belle's lips, and she dug her teeth into the skin of her bottom lip, tugging at the loose skin there as a light blush rose in her cheeks. It was hard for her to describe the feelings her father provoked in her. Her body would become a tangle of rioting emotions that caused her stomach to tighten and a soft, warm ache to bloom in the pit of her stomach, spreading through her, right down to her pussy. She clenched her thighs together as if it would suppress the buttery soft ache that spread through her pelvis, causing her creamy, wet juices to trickle out from between her folds.

Belle pulled herself up, suddenly feeling too far from him, his bare chest warm and solid, the dark smattering of hair that covered it only serving to increase the feeling of familiarity and safety she craved from him. She threw a leg between his and lay her head in the curve of his neck and shoulder, her breath escaping her in a shuddering sigh of contentment as she curled against him.

He wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, his large hand splayed across her naked back. He could feel the delicate curve of her spine beneath her smooth, silken skin, his calloused fingers seeming so rough in comparison. They snuggled, limbs tangled as they revelled in the closeness of the other, both feeling the tendrils of arousal that the other incited in them. They stayed like that, the silence comfortable as they watched tv, neither really taking anything in as they both tried to ignore the tension that simmered between them.

His hand trailed up and down her spine, unable to get enough of how her skin felt, the pads of his fingers digging into her tense muscles and massaging out the kinks where needed. Days spent either bent over a desk at community college or waiting tables had left Belle's muscles stiff, the way he kneaded and manipulated them bringing her relief. She hummed and sighed at his ministrations, suppressing the shivers that wracked through her body, her breasts swollen and aching as they continually brushed against his chest through the fabric of her cropped hoodie. She hoped that he couldn't smell her, the creamy, sweet scent of her arousal wafting in the air, even as she clenched her thighs tighter together.

He rubbed her back, feeling the indents of where her bra had dug mercilessly into her skin. He was sure that if he looked, he would find harsh red marks, a telltale sign he'd learnt from many years married of an ill-fitting bra.

"Have you grown again?" he asked as though it was normal to be asking if his daughter's cup size had gone up, and, to a point, it was. Their family had never been particularly modest, always having had relaxed ideas concerning nudity. He and his wife had brought Belle up in an open, sex positive household that had helped cultivate good self image and self confidence for her. They had wanted her to grow up comfortable in her own skin, and without the social restrictions and embarrassment that usually came with conservative living. Still, he found his mouth was a little dry at the thought of her expanding chest.

Belle had been a late bloomer, not really having fully grown into her body till her late teens, and, much like her mother, her breasts had continued to grow long after that. There had been many a night in his youth where he had been bullied into massaging his wife's sore back and breasts, her skin tight and hot, and her nipples sensitive to the point of pain. She'd had a special cream that had helped with the pain and stretch marks caused by the accelerated growth that he had since passed on to his daughter.

Belle sighed, breathing harshly through her nose in annoyance. "Yeah. They've been sore and sensitive recently. I'd hoped that I'd stopped growing, but I guess not. I'm not sure where I'm supposed to find the money in my budget to completely replace my bra collection, not after having my car in the shop. I guess I'll just have to wait till I get payed. I'm supposed to be getting a bonus this month anyway."

His stomach twisted at the thought of how much responsibility she had taken on her shoulders since her mother's death. Living at home while she got her associates degree—a compromise between her wish to not to continue her education and his for her to go to university—was supposed to make things easier for her. He was sure that her insistence of basically supporting herself, excluding rent, wasn't easy on her bank account. If it weren't for the fact that he'd had to take out a mortgage on the house after his wife had gotten sick to pay for the hospital bills, and the fact that they'd gone from a two income family to a single one, he would have had the money to support her fully.

"I have a little extra money this month," he lied, frantically thinking of which corner he could cut to make up for the loss of income. "We can go this weekend and pick out some new things for you."

"Dad..." Belle said, drawing his name out in a tone that meant she didn't quite believe him and was reluctant to accept his offer. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but if it meant they could be that much closer to paying off the mortgage, then she would decline.

"Let me spoil you for once," he answered gruffly. "We can make a day of it."

"Okay, if you're sure," she said, maintaining eye contact as if to show that she wouldn't take it hard if he rescinded the offer. "But you'll have to tell me what looks good," she added cheekily.

He flushed, the implication of what she was saying making his stomach clench and heat coil in his groin. It was bad enough that he had somehow invited himself along, but for her to blatantly tell him that she would model her purchases for him—and this was lingerie she was referring to—was almost too much for his rapidly descending mind.

She giggled softly, her dimples out in full. "You should see your face right now. It's so cute," she teased, pinching his cheek.

He batted her hand away, both relieved and disappointed, and tickled her sides mercilessly. "It's not nice to tease your father," he growled as she flailed and shrieked in his grasp.

"Uncle! Uncle!" she cried out, falling back on the bed breathlessly when he finally released her. She closed her eyes, placing a hand on her chest over her heart while she caught her breath, a grin stretched across her lips.

She was a vision, lying there, her dark chestnut hair a halo around her head. Her top was rumpled, the edge hugging the lower curve of her breasts, and her panties had ridden down low enough show a tuft of pubic hair peeking out. It was sparse, yet still full, and he couldn't help but note that it was a shade darker than the hair on her head, the wisps of hair almost black. For all his inappropriate gawking, seeing such an intimate part of her made him truly realize how much his daughter had grown into a woman.

Belle opened her eyes slowly, blinking lazily up at her father. There was an intensity in his gaze that she wasn't used to having directed toward her, the way his brows knitted together creating a furrow between them. She could remember him looking like that at her mother, that secret look filled with so many things she felt she could never truly understand making her feel like she was intruding.

She glanced down curiously, her breath hitching and her body flushing with heat at the sight that greeted her. There was something so blatantly sexual about the hair peeking out from her panties. Perhaps, she mused, it was the way it was so unassuming, a natural part of her that showed so much yet revealed so little.

There was no real intent behind her actions as her hand snaked down her stomach, oblivious to the way his lips parted, and his hands clenched by his sides, silently encouraging her, daring her to rake her nails gently through the thatch of neatly trimmed hair.

"I know it isn't popular to have hair down there, but I'm strangely attached to it. It makes me feel more feminine," she admitted nervously, going so far as to nudge her panties further down, her fingers gliding over the swell of her mound.

Belle glanced back up at her father, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh of her bottom lip as she tried to read his expression. A part of her knew she should have been horrified that he had seen her like that, that she should have quickly covered the accidental exposure and pretended it had never happened, but another part of her wanted his approval. It was stupid, she knew that, and beyond inappropriate, and if it had been anyone else she would have followed those latent instincts to cover up, but this was her father, and she wanted to know that her body was acceptable in his eyes.

He couldn't think, couldn't get his brain to correspond with the rest of him, all electrical and chemical signals seeming to misfire as he sat and stared unabashedly, unable to tear his eyes away from her. He could see the little creases where her thighs started, his daughter's cunt almost fully exposed to his gaze. If she pushed her panties any further down, even just a little, he was sure that he would be able to see the top of her cleft, the two lips pouting down below her navel. He was ashamed of the way he thought, wondering if her clit was dainty or large, or whether her vulva and labia would be a soft, glowing pink, or a darker, more raspberry, red.

He closed his eyes against the onslaught of images in his head, his throat so dry that he struggled to swallow. The feel of the sheets against his naked thighs made goosebumps rise on his skin, the reminder that there was little to hide the way his traitorous cock had begun to respond to her nonchalant display as perverse as it was frightening.

He draped his arm across his lap to hide the way his cock swelled and thickened and released a harsh breath. "You know, just because I'm your father, it doesn't mean I'm not still a man," he murmured, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

"Is that your way of asking me to stop, or your way of telling me that I'm effecting you?" she questioned, her eyes glinting mischieviously.

"I think its time you went to bed, don't you?" he deflected, his voice tight. He found himself defensive, his cock hardening and his balls tight, the denial that had always been his cloak ripped from his fingers. How could he put up a good argument when the very organ she had come from ached and seethed with lust for her?

"Oh, calm down," she said with an eye roll, sitting up and calmly throwing a leg over his waist to straddle his thighs. "I'm just teasing you. Besides, it's been three years. You're allowed to get a bit of wood over some pubic hair."

"Belle. Out," he growled tersely from between gritted teeth, knowing it was only a matter of time before his reaction to her became obvious. It was one thing for her to suspect that he was fighting an erection, and whole other thing for her feel him, thick and pulsing, especially when her ass was so close to where his traitorous cock was rising.

She gave an exaggerated sigh and tucked her hair back behind her ear before looping her arms around his neck. "Fine," she acquiesced. "But not without my goodnight kiss."

He barely had time to protest, to remind her of all the times she had spurned his goodnight kisses with eyerolls and huffs of annoyance, before she closed the gap between them.

Belle advanced cautiously but without hesitation, her nose brushing along the curve of his as her hands threaded almost possessively in the hair at the nape of his neck. She slanted her lips across his, the kiss too brief from the moment it began, the brush of barely parted lips sinking through her skin, all the way to the bone.

It was everything that she had expected, the way his mouth gave way, his lips as firm and as yielding beneath the pressure of hers as she'd always imagined they would be. They were chapped and the coarseness of his stubble was rough against her skin, yet it did not deter her. Instead, it spent thrills of excitement up her spine, filling her with an intensified wave of pleasure, because it was those little things that made it so undeniably real.

She breathed him in, wanting to immortalize the moment, yet knowing that it was already imprinted on her mind, never to be forgotten. If she could have stayed there indefinitely, she would have, no questions asked, but she forced herself to pull away. She exhaled shakily, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as her mouth lingered, reluctant to relinquish her hold and face the reality of her actions.

Perhaps it was wrong, what she had done; taking advantage of his weakness, of his desperate need to feel something beyond himself, yet she couldn't find an ounce of remorse within herself. She could throw a myriad of words at the situation; forbidden, taboo, or her personal favorite, incest, but it wouldn't' change the fact that she'd longed for a moment like this for the last two years.

There had been no planned seduction, no previously concocted plan to bed her father, just the intense yearning of one lonely person reaching out for another, the fact that they were related irrelevant in her eyes.

Belle pressed her forehead against her father's, trying to tamp down the speed at which her heart was hammering against her chest as she gauged his reaction. She trembled against him, knowing she was standing on the knife's edge, one word from him holding the power to shatter her. Despite that, she refused to back down from him, trying to convey silently with her gaze that she didn't regret what she had done. If that kiss was all she would ever have of her father, a stolen moment under the cover of darkness, then she would find some way to accept that.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and her pupils dilated as he stared into them. They shone with a fire and determination that he'd seen too many times not to understand what it meant. Belle had, after all, gotten her temperament from her mother.

"Belle." Her name sounded tortured and strained on his lips, the monosyllable word saying so much yet omitting everything important. His mouth opened and closed uselessly, his tongue heavy and thick as the frustration he directed at himself mounted.

He wished he could have given some kind of noble excuse as to why he had allowed her to kiss him in a way that was so far removed from their usual goodnight kiss that they might as well as been in different hemispheres. They both knew he possessed the strength and ability to remove her from his person should he have wished to do so, but, in truth, he'd wanted to know, wanted to feel, if only briefly, how her lips would fit against his. He'd been afraid for one moment, a silly childish fear rising up in him, that his mouth would dwarf hers, his lips too big and clumsy against the pillowy softness of hers. It was by some sick twist of fate that they'd fallen into it like it was the most natural thing in the world, just two people of opposite sexes exchanging a kiss.

She played with the soft ends of his hair, the heat of her touch causing a shudder to race down his spine as she drew him back in. Her hand slipped through the thick strands of his hair that were so much like her own, fisting it gently, coaxing his head down until he found himself, once again, captured in her twisted web.

The kiss was firmer, her mouth wet and soft as it moved against his. She drew his top lip between hers, nipping and sucking gently at his flesh, her actions soft yet needful, sweet yet somehow carnal. He groaned, drunk on the taste of her, his little girl now a grown woman driving him mad.

He didn't allow himself to be so passive this time, hands that had sat limp by his sides reaching for her, fingers splaying across her throat and cupping her hip. His tongue traced her bottom lip before dipping between her parted lips, exploring her mouth hesitantly. Her breath stuttered before hitching in response to his bold move, her body melting into him.

If Belle had thought that having just a taste of him would temper the raging storm that he had roused within her, she was sorely mistaken. Instead, she found herself aware with a kind of certainty that scared her that she'd never be able to sate the inescapable hunger that he'd sparked inside of her.

"Daddy," she mewled, the word slipping past her lips unchecked.

All the air felt like it had been sucked from his lungs with that one word. She hadn't called him that since she was a child, back when he was center of her world, her superhero, and his cock shouldn't have responded to that, shouldn't have twitched and pushed impatiently against her ass in response to it.

His stomach twisted, tightening in want, reckless in its need to feel more of her. His lips trailed down her throat, leaving a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, nipping and sucking at her flesh. She surrendered to him, neck arching to give him access while her nails bit mercilessly into his skin, the burn making lust flare up inside of him, surging through his veins as his erection throbbed with blood, engorged and weeping for satisfaction.

Her hands dropped, moving over his shoulders, slowly slipping down his chest over lean muscle covered in a smattering of hair. Her fingers caught on his nipples, dragging over them as he arched, his hips bucking, pressing the length of his hot, rigid, incestuous cock against the underside of his nubile daughter's ass. There was no way to deny his arousal, the way it pushed, thick and swollen, between her cheeks through the sheets and the thin lace of her panties, and Belle thrilled at the feel of him, triumphant in her victory, in the chink that she had made in his armour.

She continued down, the pads of her fingers sweeping over his stomach, fascinated by the way his muscles contracted beneath her hands. His breathing was uneven, coming out in soft pants as she tugged at the sheet that covered what little was left of his modesty, drawing it down until the 'v' of his pelvis was revealed.

At this point, at least part of his sanity returned to him, and he grasped her wrists in his hands, pulling them over her head, stopping her from advancing any further. "No," he said roughly, his eyes dark, and his lips swollen and wet.

She pouted, peeking up at him from beneath thick lashes and gave him a look that had always aided her in getting her own way. "I just wanted to see. I showed you mine," she protested with a childlike whine.

"I'm your father," he growled.

"You're right," she acquiesced, arching in his grip as she rolled her hips over him, massaging his cock from base to tip with her ass. "You're my father." Her voice was heavy with insinuation, the way she sank her teeth into the plump flesh of her bottom lip both coy and sexy. She cocked her brow challengingly, as if to ask what he intended to do about it.

Belle gasped as she found herself flat on her back, head toward the end of the bed, her father over her, her wrists still held tightly in his grip over her head.

"Stop this," he hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. He felt out of control, his sanity pulled taut in both directions, the need to take her, devour her, warring with everything that was legally and morally right.

He was distracted and disoriented, his mind separate from his actions. It felt almost like he had detached himself from his body and was looking down on the scene before him. He observed with a perverse kind of interest, teetering back and forth, selfish desires warring with good intentions.

He let out a harsh breath through his nose, finding himself suddenly thrust back into his body, Belle pinned between him and the bed. She struggled weakly against his hold, her back bowing and thrusting her chest outward as she twisted, spreading her legs wider around his narrow hips, not wanting to escape, yet too stubborn to give in easily.

"Or you could put us both out of our misery and just fuck me?" She suggested bluntly. She was tired of playing games with him, the constant push and pull of their relationship enough to drive even the sanest person crazy. She knew he wanted her, that the attraction between them wasn't one sided, that the lingering touches and glances they shared said more than either of them had been willing to admit.

"Belle..." he warned, his voice trailing off at the end.

She stared unwaveringly into eyes so similar to her own she might as well have been looking into a mirror, trying to communicate silently her desire for him. "I've thrown every available woman at you as though it would somehow cure me of this need, this craving, to have you for myself. I'm done denying myself, done pretending to not see the way you look at me, the way your eyes drink in every inch of me like you can't get enough. I'm not oblivious to the way you seem to always need to touch me whenever I'm close, how your hands linger on my skin. You want me, it's that simple. Now, take me."

He shook his head stubbornly, denial at the forefront of his mind, not willing to believe that he had been so obvious, that his subconscious had been so rampant in his actions. To accept what she was saying, to take it and swallow it would be as bad as him admitting that he returned those clandestine feelings. His relationship with his daughter was the only thing that kept him sane most days, and to destroy that irreparably would kill him.

"I can't," he choked out, his grip on her wrist loosening as he pushed himself back to sit on his haunches. He clenched the sheets in his lap in a weak effort to cover himself, the aching tug of his groin reminding him that he was still hard and throbbing.

Belle was aware enough of herself not to take his words as an outright rejection, knowing that such a blow would cripple her and make her ignorant to the true meaning behind his words. She understood that his refusal had more to do with the fact that he didn't want to hurt her, to use her than that he sincerely did not want her. He loved her too much to ever do something that could damage their relationship, and she loved him for that, loved him for being able to put her first even when she could clearly see his cock creating an obscene tent under the sheets piled in his lap.

"I used to...I used to fantasize about you coming into my room at night," she confessed as she pulled herself into an upright position. She swept her hair out of her eyes and rose to her knees before him, tilting her head back slightly to look him directly in the eye.

Belle let out something of a humorless laugh. "I used to," she muttered self deprecatingly to herself, shaking her head slightly as her gaze dropped, too embarrassed to keep eye contact. "I still do. I fantasize about you doing things, obscene, disgusting, incestuous things no father should ever even think about doing to his daughter, and I cum...hard. I wish I could promise that nothing would change between us if we went through with this, but I can't. I can say that even if we only have tonight, my feelings for you won't change. I will still love you, appropriately, inappropriately, but I won't pressure you for more than you can give me.

"I mean, it's easy for me to ask something like this of you when I'm not the one who is going to have to face the real consequences. I mean, fuck, I'm asking you to risk a prison sentence for me, and I hate myself for that, but Daddy, I need you. I need to feel you, if only once, inside me. I know it's wrong, but that doesn't change the fact that I feel like I'm clawing at my insides in an attempt to escape this need. It haunts me, and it hurts, keeping it inside, knowing that the only person that can understand it, that can relieve this ache, is you."

He could see that she had become visibly upset, her grey green eyes pooling with tears as she rambled on helplessly. He cupped her jaw, cradling it in his palm, and wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her into him, unable to sit back and do nothing when his little girl was in pain.

He ducked his head down, leaning his forehead against hers as a shuddering sigh escaped him. "I would do anything for you, Belle, even if it meant facing a prison sentence," he murmured, his tone firm and filled with vehemence. There was a note of finality to his statement that resonated deeply within her, and her breath hitched, his words saying more than her rambling monologue ever could. She stared imploring into his eyes, reading the depths of his desire, of his love, for her, along with the tortured acceptance he had reached concerning their somewhat unique predicament.

She pressed her face against his bare chest, her arms winding around his waist and grasping his shoulders as she clung to him, tears dripping down her cheeks even as she dragged her lips back and forth across his skin.

"No more tears," he murmured, nudging her face up by her chin and kissing away the tears on her face. "Daddy's got you."

She let out a small sob at his words, so overwhelmed by what was occurring that she could barely control herself, her body trembling as she fell into him, her frame soft and pliable as she melted against him.

"Please," she whimpered, unsure of what she was asking him for, but just knowing that she needed it.

He was hesitant, his mouth moving tentatively against hers as he closed the distance between them, the kiss filled with uncertainties that Belle was sure he would never voice. She was struck by how careful he was, gently pushing the boundaries, acclimating himself to the idea of her outside of his heavily denied fantasies. His hands grazed down her sides, cupping her waist with care, like he was holding something very precious, an antique of unimaginable worth.

"You will tell no one about this," he murmured, dragging his lips away from hers to regard her seriously. "If we do this, no one can know. I don't care how close they are to you, or how good they are at keeping secrets, you breathe one word of this to anyone, and it's over."

She nodded vigorously. "Tell no one. Got it," she breathed, staring deeply into his eyes to convey the sincerity of her words. The very thought of jeopardizing what they were only just beginning to explore was unfathomable to her, not when she had been craving, internally begging, for something to happen between them for years.

He couldn't be certain as to who moved first, their mouths forgoing their earlier caution as they collided sharply. The kiss was rough yet almost achingly slow, languid but urgent, the pressure he exerted bruising as he forced their lips to connect harder, to meld closer. They didn't kiss neatly, instead they kissed deeply, wetly, pliable lips giving way to clashing teeth and hungry, wet tongues, their breaths deteriorating into soft pants.

She grasped his face in her hands, clinging onto him as though he would disintegrate in her palms if she loosened her hold even the slightest bit. His stubble scratched her skin as he tilted his head, slanting his mouth across hers as though to deepen a kiss she could already feel in her toes.

Belle felt overheated everywhere he touched her, the way his hands dwarfed her small, rounded hips, the tips of his fingers curving around to graze the cheeks of her ass, enough to make the blood thrumming through her veins rise to the surface. Pleasure crawled up her spine, curling around her chest, each pulse of her body making her breasts ache with renewed vigor, the brush of cotton against her swollen nipples only serving to heighten her state of arousal.

He felt slightly unhinged as he lowered his mouth, his lips hungry as he planted wet, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, hunting desperately across her skin. He threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging her head to the side in an effort to give himself more room to kiss the silken flesh that had tempted him so many times.

Now that he could admit to it, all those lingering glances he'd caught himself giving her, the touches that had bordered on the lines of innocent, all the fleeting incestuous thoughts that he'd forced himself to ignore, it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. This wasn't one of his heavily obscured fantasies where the faceless girl with a body so much like his daughter's serviced him in whatever lewd scenario he came up with. This was him, for the first time, being really and truly honest about his desires, his wants, and his needs, and it was freeing to be able to touch and taste the very skin that had begun to haunt him.

The air between them was charged with something sharp and electric. Belle could taste it on her tongue, feel it prick at her skin like small knives as he nipped and nuzzled her collarbone, pushing aside the collar of her top to gain access to more of her skin.

He startled as she pushed against him, pressing him back, away from her, until he reluctantly detached himself from her. His eyes searched hers questioningly, the fear that she had changed her mind making it almost impossible to swallow back the excess saliva in his mouth.

Instead of recoiling and slapping the shit out of him like he had been prepared for, she reach down and grasp the hem of her top, pulling it over her head. His breath escaped him in rush at the sight of her full, swollen breasts, her flushed skin pale against the rest of her lightly tanned body. They stood out away from her chest, the large, upturned globes sitting high and proud, her nipples thick and taut, puffy from her arousal, their dark raspberry hue giving them the look of having been already abused. He could imagine fingers twisting, tugging at the swollen buds, yet he knew, had seen this particular tone before, on her mother.

His daughter was not his wife, he knew that, understood it viscerally, yet the similarities were there, unavoidable, his wife's genetics passed on, creating, not just Belle's good looks and svelte, athletic body, but something as small and seemingly insignificant as the color of her nipples. He had never see that particular shade before his wife, and he had thought that, upon her death, that he would never see it again, yet faced with it once again did not bring with it the shock he had expected. Instead, he felt a certain amount of calm that wasn't quite resignation so much as it was acceptance, and with that came a certain amount of peace.

His gaze flickered back up to meet hers, her once confident gaze having faltered slightly, the glimpse of insecurity he caught in her eyes borne from his prolonged silence.

"You're gorgeous," he murmured, his voice thick.

Belle glanced down, suddenly feeling a little bashful, but quickly found her face tipped back up to meet his gaze, his hand beneath her chin refusing to allow her to hide from him. She released a breath she hadn't realized that she had been holding, the intensity of his gaze when she had undressed having unnerved her slightly. She wasn't used to having him look at her like that, that glint in his eyes reminiscent to the looks she would sometimes catch him giving to her mother in those secret moments made only for them. So, to have it directed at her left her feeling a little off kilter, her cheeks flaming as she suppressed the urge to squirm.

His fingers were featherlight as they traced a path up her sides, curving around her ribcage as they ascended. He dipped his head down, lips ghosting along her throat as his thumbs grazed the undersides of her breasts. She sucked in a shuddering breath at the touch, it somehow feeling daring despite everything that had already passed between them. She was sore and sensitive, her breasts tingling, throbbing, aching as he cupped them in his large, calloused hands, her ample cleavage spilling between his fingers.

She hadn't known what to expect, unsure as to what his sexual temperament would be, whether he would be rough, losing all control, or whether he would draw it out, continually teasing her until she was helpless to do anything but explode. Somehow, he had found a middle ground between the two, his hands gentle yet firm, needful, yet tender as they kneaded her supple breasts, massaging the plump swells in his palms, his finger gently tugging at her swollen nipples.

She arched in his grip, a high pitched yet soft gasp escaping her parted lips, the manipulation of her flesh beneath his fingers sending warm, sharp bolts of pleasure that made her clench and squirm in his grip, her cunt throbbing and so slippery wet.

From the moment she had stepped through his bedroom door, the slip of lace she'd deemed acceptable as panties making her feel both oddly exposed and powerful under his gaze, Belle had been wet. Now, though, her pussy was dripping, the evidence of her arousal drenching her underwear and coating her upper thighs in the slick cream of her essence.

He guided her face up to meet his searching lips, the kiss rough with the lust that was boiling just beneath the surface of his skin. It was grounding, their lips yielding against the pressure they were both exerting, both desperate to feel more, to taste the other ways that had recently been unknown to them.

She reached for him, hands clenching in the fabric of the sheets still piled in her father's lap. He grasped her wrists tightly before she could tug it away, and she pulled back to look at him with a huff, more annoyed than confused, wondering what excuse he was planning to use to divert her away from her goal.

"You do that and there's no going back," he informed her seriously, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. Everything in him screamed for release, the physical act of restraining himself making every muscle in his body tense as his hips twitched, desperate for any kind of friction to reduce the pressure currently crushing his groin. He could literally feel the weight of his balls, swollen and heavy as they were, his cock ready to spew, to unload years worth of frustration onto the pristine sheets.

Her exasperated expression softened at his words, and she reached out to cup the edge of his jaw, feeling the dusting of stubble against her palm. "Trust me," she murmured, smiling gently as he loosened his grip on her wrists.

He couldn't help but feel hesitant in removing this last barrier from between them, even as she tugged the sheets off his lap, finishing the job she had long since started. His breath hitched, the feel of cool air making his already tender cock even more sore. His skin was stretched taut around his girth, swollen and sensitive as it twitched and throbbed impatiently, precum drooling from the slit at the engorged head.

She took a moment to fully appreciate his cock, her father's incestuous cock, standing thick and swollen between his legs, the veins protruding from the sides and the dark red blush covering the length before she nudged him back. He acquiesced, leaning back until his elbows sank into the mattress, propping himself up to watch her as her mouth descended down his chest.

He felt as though he could barely breathe, each breath passing his lips laboured, his body trembling and tensing the further down her head dipped. He didn't try to dissuade her, didn't make a move to stop her, the feel of her hair brushing against his skin making his stomach contract and spasm. He reached out, gathering her hair in his palms before winding the tresses around his fist until he felt at least bit more in control of where the evening was leading

His breath stuttered as her hand wrapped around his cock, and he swallowed back a hoarse moan, the sound catching in the back of his throat at the feel of her soft, warm, little fingers gripping his aching cock tightly. Her eyes peeked up at him from beneath heavy lids, pupils dilated with desire, and her gaze so lustful that he could do nothing but watch as her tongue swept out of her mouth, lapping at the precum leaking from the wide tip.

"Fuck!" he snarled, hips bucking as his grip on her hair tightened.

Belle was shaking, able to feel the creamy wetness collecting between her legs dribbling down her thighs, needy and craving for him to stretch and fill her little cunt. Her lips parted unbidden, mouthing the side of his cock, feeling how hot and rigid it was as he pulsed against her lips, throbbing steadily. Her eyes fluttered shut, blocking out the rest of the world, his grip on her hair the only thing anchoring her. She felt dizzy and unbalanced, unable to help herself, to stop her tongue from darting out to taste him, dragging her tongue up the side in a series of licks as though his cock was a lollipop she was relishing.

She teased the tip, sliding her mouth over it and suckling on the engorged head, the musky, salty fluid of his precum, saturating her tastebuds. Belle wouldn't lie and say that he tasted like ambrosia or anything as cliche as that, but the fact that it was his, that it was her father's, was enough for her to want every drop. The taboo nature of their coupling, of her swallowing down the very essence that had created her, was an aphrodisiac to her, and, perhaps it shouldn't have, but to know that her mother was the last person to have taken her father's cock in her mouth only served to fuel her arousal.

Her hand snaked down beneath her body and between her legs, her arousal apparent in the involuntary whimper that slipped unchecked past her lips as her fingers glided low over the swell of her mound, dipping between the folds of satin flesh to find her clit. Her cunt was slippery wet, gushing buttery soft cream, the evidence of her arousal slick and hot on her fingers. Her pelvis tipped forward, the instinctual part of her brain taking over, coaxing her hips to roll and rock, to grind against her hand.

He risked a glance down at her, the way she suckled on the wide tip of his cock, her lips swollen and stretched wide around his girth, her cheeks hollowing slightly with each pull igniting his body, rousing the fire within him to a roaring blaze.

He let his head fall back, his mouth falling slack, and his eyes drifting shut, his attention resting solely on the wet heat of her lips and tongue working him over. HIs hands flexed in her hair, tugging lightly as he rolled his hips, tipping them up so that he could sink deeper down her throat.

She moaned around him, fingers strumming the sensitive tip of her swollen clit, careful not apply too much pressure, yet keeping a steady rhythm, having long perfected the art of getting herself off. Her head bobbed up and down in his lap, the tight grip he had on her hair guiding her as his hips rocked.

Her eyes squeezed shut, a choked whimper escaping as she slid two fingers deep inside the tight cavern of her pussy, her body arching up against them. The sounds of his harsh breathing and the wet suction of her mouth filled the room, the friction she was creating with her finger within her pussy making the walls flutter, the muscles clinging to her digits and drawing them deeper inside her. Her fingers curled and twisted expertly, hitting the spot that made her see stars as she sank down, sliding him nice and deep down her throat, her nose practically buried in his pubic hair while she swallowed around him.

It was a move that had always had instant results, and this time was no different. A string of curses slipped past his lips in a snarl, and he throbbed, his hips flexing, trying to force himself deeper down her throat. She breathed harshly through her nose as she pushed back against the tight grip he had on her hair, coaxing him to loosen his hold until only the tip was resting against her tongue. She could tell he was close as she tongued the slit at the tip of his cock, internally smirking at the way he shoved his fist in his mouth to muffle the groan that escaped as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Belle almost felt bad when she pulled off him completely, a string of saliva bridging between between his cock and her plump lips, but she didn't want the night the end so quickly, not when her very core cried out for him to sink inside her body, her cunt unsatisfied with her offering of a few fingers.

He hissed, the exposure of his wet, sensitive flesh to the cool air making shudders roll beneath the surface of his skin. He could only imagine what he looked like in that moment, his body sinking into the bed, head thrown back as sweat dampened his naked, panting, aroused body.

He pulled himself up to look down at her incredulously, barely able to hold back the demand that she finish what she started. He'd been so close, only needing a few more strokes before he exploded, and while there was still that constant tug at the base of his cock coaxing him to finish himself off, he could feel the tendrils of his orgasm that had wrapped around him beginning to retreat. He pushed a hand through his hair, shoving the damp tendrils out of his face as a low curse escaped him, his whole body feeling like a bow strung too tightly, the slightest touch from her enough to make him snap.

She rose up onto her knees, a wreck of sexual want, trembling fingers hooking into the band of her panties that were already slipping off her hips and tugged them down impatiently, slipping out of them with the grace of a woman who had done it at least a few times before.

He wasn't under the false impression that his daughter was some kind of shy virgin, the expert way she had just sucked his dick had spoken for itself. Belle had never been shy when it came to her sexuality, and he could remember her venting to him when her then boyfriend and first lover had spread rumors around the school about their sex life. She'd gotten him back with her own rumors of his less than stellar attributes, and he'd had the small consolation of being able to rough the kid up a little when he'd come around to beg for her forgiveness.

She tossed her panties off the bed without a second glance, kneeling between his spread thighs, his young, nubile daughter bare before her father for the first time since he had bathed her as a child. He swallowed tightly at the sight of her little cunt, her glistening, swollen slit, his immediate instinct to bury his face between her thighs and lick every drop of cream she gave him forcing him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand to rid himself of any stray saliva. He hadn't seen such a young, tight cunt since he was young himself, and his cock twitched at the thought of being inside her.

Belle raked her fingers through her hair, shakily tucking the strands plastered to her sweaty skin back over her shoulder and out of her face as she moved to straddle his waist, the anticipation of finally having him in a way that she had once thought to be impossible making every inch of her tingle and ache with need. She leaned forward over him, planting her hands on either side of his shoulders in an effort to balance her body weight.

"Fuck, baby," he murmured hoarsely as she lowered her hips, guiding his cock between her legs. It was the first time she'd heard him refer to her in such a manner, his words that of a lover, not a father, and it sent an erotic thrill through her to hear them.

She dragged the engorged head between her folds, letting it nestle between her spread lips. She mewled, hot puffs of breath escaping her at the feel of her slick flesh hugging the thick, hot, and silky hard shaft sandwiched between her clenched thighs. He was bigger than any of her previous boyfriends, a man amongst boys, and she pulled his dripping, wet, incestuous cock tighter against her wet little slit, gliding her pussy along the full length of him.

He gripped her hips, feeling a surge of something raw, something that appealed to his baser instincts, at the knowledge of her juices, slick, hot and creamy, coating along the length of him as he pressed her sex down onto him, humping his cock up tightly against her. Each thrust nudged her little, swollen clit, and she struggled to hold onto what little was left of her sanity, her thoughts fragmented, disjointed as she lost herself in him.

Her skin glistened in the muted light, the sheen of sweat beading on her skin giving it a warm, pink glow. Her nubile body was ripe, the sexual energy radiating from her making him want to sink his teeth into her like she was a succulent fruit ready to be plucked and devoured.

He flipped them over, tension radiating from every pore as he took the place of dominance over her. She arched against the bed, head sinking back into the pillows as he dipped his head down, mouth skimming a path down her collarbone. He spread her legs, hands smoothing over her thighs as he coaxed them to wrap around his waist, pulling their bodies closer until they were almost flush against each other. Her hips bunched, seeking for the one thing that would end her suffering, her body akin to a live wire, humming and throbbing with lust that sent sharp, stabbing prongs of electricity through her.

"Say it," she panted out sharply, too far gone to give context to her words, the pressure between her thighs having passed the threshold of uncomfortable and began to border on painful. But he knew, could see in the flash of animalistic pleasure he'd glimpsed in her eyes what she wanted from him.

"I want you," he groaned against her skin as he took her puffy nipple into his mouth, her taste exploding on his tongue. It was so familiar yet so new to him, her natural fragrance concentrated into a flavor that sent signals to the part of his mind that told him that she ready, that his baby daughter was ripe for fucking. If that hadn't been enough to convince him, then the way she was dripping all over the sheets showed him the evidence of just how cock hungry she was, her pussy open and just begging to be filled, not caring that it was her father's incestuous cock that would be the one to give her the fucking she needed.

"Is this what you wanted to hear?" He rasped, his voice strained as he pulled back, fisting his dripping cock, and guiding the swollen, blunt tip to the warm, wet hole he had wanted to sink his cock into much longer than he would ever willingly admit. "That I can't resist my hot little girl, my sexy fucking daughter, that I want to bury my cock inside you, that I want to fuck you."

His words caused her to shiver and she nodded in response, biting back a whimper as he flexed his hips, her pussy so wet that the wide crown slipped in without resistance, the walls of her sex giving way around his cock. It felt as though neither one of them was breathing as their eyes met, twin gazes locked onto to each other as though neither could quite believe that this was actually happening, that they were actually going through with something that would change their relationship irrevocably.

"God, you're so tight," he hissed, puffs of hot air heating her neck as he ducked his head, panting against her skin.

Her insides trembled, reflexively clenching and fluttering around him, the feel of him lying in the cradle of her body, every inch of their bodies pressing together causing the coil in her stomach to tighten. Belle's hands splayed over his back, the tips curling to dig into his back, her breath hitching and stuttering as every ridge, dip and flare of his cock rubbed up inside her. Her head lolled back against the sheets, never having been able to justly envision what it would feel like, wholly unprepared to experience him, her father, sinking into her willing body. His incestuous cock glided into the tight channel of her cunt, spreading her open and filling her in a way that had crowded her fantasies for so long.

He stopped when he was fully sheathed inside her, impaling her on his throbbing, hard cock, and pulled back to look down at her spread out beneath him. He cupped her hips, her skin so soft and supple in his hands as his fingers splayed out to curve around the plump cheeks of her ass, tipping her lower half up so as to allow him to press just a little bit more of himself into her as though the pubic hair at the base of his cock wasn't already mashed against her.

Belle was almost ashamed to have her father see her like this, so utterly exposed with her back arched, swollen breasts thrust out toward him, so wanton, a lustful little slut quivering and creaming all over her father's huge, hard cock. She was so hot, brimming with a burning sexual want, a wild animal in heat as she squirmed on his cock buried all the way inside her, unable to stop herself grinding on it, so thick and swollen inside her. She rolled and swiveled her supple hips, her cream running down over his balls, her father's balls, so full of cum, full of the seed that had brought her into this world.

She gushed out a hot breath as he dragged his hands down the outside of her thighs, her body tingling hot everywhere he touched her. His stomach was so warm as it brushed against hers, her father's huge cock so deep inside her, hot, hard and throbbing, as he hooked his hands beneath her knees and pulled her legs up, opening up her body more fully to his gaze.

She was like a vice around his cock, a wet, warm vice that clenched around him perfectly as he thrust into her in long, hard, deep strokes. It seemed fitting that he'd had a hand in creating the cunt that felt as though it was made solely for his cock. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten here, how what had been such an innocent relationship between father and daughter had evolved, a strange, erotic culmination of sexual hunger leading them to this moment.

They were in their own little cocoon, the muted light so intimate, casting shadows on them that made their coupling seem all the more clandestine. It was just them, in his large bed, late at night, no one else aware of the debauchery taking place within the four walls of his bedroom, that father and daughter were currently engaging in a forbidden, incestuous union.

They were a lust filled frenzy of limbs, all civility and propriety falling away until they were reduced to that of beasts, moving solely on instincts. He didn't hold back, the lunge of his hips unrestrained, rutting, fucking, his little girl, her big, soft tits jostling and bouncing with each thrust.

He was delirious with lust, unable to see, to think past the feel and sight of her body beneath him, his mouth descending down her sweat slicked body to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. She made a sound, a low, guttural cry that went straight to his cock, her hands digging and scratching down his back as she thrashed beneath him. The sensation of his tongue swirling and flicking over her nipple combined with the wet suction of his mouth blindsided her, the intensity of the pleasure he was building within her making her cum, abruptly and without preamble, a gush of warm fluid drenching his cock.

Her body exploded in pleasure, wave after wave of lust crashing over her as shudders rolled through her body. Her thighs tensed, and her body quivered with an orgasm that was prolonged by his cock gliding in and out of her cunt. She could vaguely hear her father's voice distantly coaxing her, urging her, to cum for him as moans and whimpers slipping unchecked past her lips.

She barely had time to come down from her climax, the cloud of lust that she had been drowning in still thick around her mind before the need he had so briefly satisfied came roaring back to life. She pushed herself up on shaking arms, her body a mess of sweaty, loose, uncoordinated limbs as she dragged his head down for a kiss until his body, once again, covered hers. She rocked her hips, meeting his thrusts, feeling so deliciously naughty, the slick, wet sounds of their coupling just a reminder of how their most intimate essences were mixing and combining inside her.

She was propped up on her elbows, undulating her hips as they kissed, their tongues wet and sloppy as they tangled. She hooked her legs over his thighs, trying to draw him closer, deeper, inside her, her knowing how wrong it was to ache for her father's big, throbbing cock to fuck her like this, how wrong it was for her to reciprocate so passionately. She could feel his balls slapping against her ass, knowing they were full and heavy with his cum, cum that he would fill her little belly with, making her Daddy's little lover.

Belle wasn't sure how many times she came, her swollen, pink little cunt dripping all over his hard, slick, incestuous cock, her hot, sopping wet, little hole stretching around his girth as he plunged into her over and over again, never slowing or softening the blow of his thrusts. She was loud, each climax washing over her with an accompaniment of moans, and whimpered curses entangled with the cry of 'Daddy!'

Colors danced behind her closed lids, and she drifted in a space that seemed void of time, only conscious of him, of their hips meeting, slapping together, grinding, twisting against each other, the rawness of their movements communicating what couldn't be said with words. The thick, heady scent of their arousal filled the room, feeding his bestial urges and stoking her own feral, wanton, hot need.

"Daddy's close, baby. You gonna...Fuck, are you gonna take all his cum, hmmm? You gonna let Daddy fill your little...your little belly with his seed?" he grunted out, feeling her cunt clenching and tightening around his pistoning cock in response to his words. The filthy words dripped off his tongue, him knowing how wrong it was to talk to his little girl like that, but unable to stop himself.

A breathless cry of affirmation left her lips, only to swallowed up by his mouth as he dominated her mouth, their teeth clashing together at the force of it. His body felt as though it had come alive, the blood pulsing in his veins making his heart thrum faster than it had in a long time. Sweat trickled down the edge of his jaw, the heat and friction they were creating sparking with electricity.

His cock throbbed, swelling and hardening, and his balls tightened, threatening to explode from the tight, wet pressure of her pussy as it constricted, clinging and spasming around him as she neared yet another orgasm.

A strained, drawn out groan left him as the muscles of his stomach contracted, and his thrust became erratic. The coil snapped as shudders started to run down his back, spreading down to his thighs as he let go. Fire surged through his body, the gland at the base of his cock pulsing as liquid heat shot up the length of his cock as it twitched, exploding, shooting his cum deep inside of her.

Belle's thighs tensed, and her eyes rolled back into her head as she tipped over the edge for the last time, his cum, wet and warm, splashing, coating the inside of her body, marking her, filling her little belly until she felt bloated with it.

He snarled, groaning and grunting as his cock jerked and pulsed, emptying everything he had inside her. He milked his orgasm, his thrusts stuttering as the pleasure battered through his body like a ship being tossed around in a storm. His hips rolled forward in a slow arch as his climax started to recede, flexing, prolonging the exquisite feel of her clenching around him.

He felt almost dizzy as he collapsed against her, panting heavily, the spasms in his body slowly diminishing. They lay panting, trying to catch their breaths, both of them slowly floating back down to earth, their chests rising and falling in tandem.

Once some of her faculties returned to her, she nudged him off her body, too hot to be crushed beneath the firm weight of his body. He rolled off her, hissing as he pulled his slick, softening cock from her tight, little, wet hole, her pink cunt gaping open as his cum began to bubble and leak out onto the thoroughly ruined sheets under her.

She keened, hips twitching as he cupped her shiny, wet, swollen cunt, her pubic hair plastered against her skin from the amount of fluids smeared into it, holding his cum inside her.

"Good girls don't waste their Daddy's cum," he murmured, nuzzling her cheek, and she felt a spasm in her used, spent pussy, a tingle that went right to her toes. She released a long breath, any doubts or apprehension about their burgeoning relationship erased with his words. The gentle touch of his hand between her legs, against her sensitive flesh, solidified the fact that she was Daddy's new, little lover now, that she belonged to him, wholly and without question.

 **AN:** And...there it is! Shout out to all the hentai comics I read for inspiration, to tumblr for being kinkier than I could ever hope to be, to Literotica for having a whole genre just for Incest, and to the TwiKinkFest for giving me the courage/ excuse to finally write an incest piece. Drop me a line and tell me what you think!


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